Red Looks Better On You Anyways
by LadyLazarus33
Summary: Somewhere in the background, she can hear the faint sound of the piano music he falls asleep to each night. Claire de Lune. Piano Concerto No. 1 In D Major, Op. 17, Piano Sonata No. 8 In C Minor. If she moves the sound forward, she can hear his heartbeat muffled through the warmth of his sweatshirt.
1. Chapter 1

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

She's not wearing a jacket.

In the flurry of anxiety that had occurred in the house nearly an hour before, nearly three hours if one added the time it took to actually find her on one of these fake beaches. Arthur sighs, stepping out of the car and almost wincing at the harsh rocks that crunch under his feet with every step.

He can see her figure a few leads away. The water of the Pacific reflects the Washington sky, drowsy grey and heavy, like the weight of a starting effect on opium. She's sitting just where the water can't touch her completely, her cell phone beside her along with a packet of Marlboro. Amelia doesn't even look in his direction when he sits down beside her, the silence between taking its place for a five full minutes before he speaks.

"So." Arthur winces at how hollow his voice sounds.

She takes another drag from the cigarette.

"Is Papa mad?"

Arthur decides that the rawness in her voice is due to the fag and not from the tearstains barely evident on her cheeks.

He only sighs, moving a bit closer to which she makes no indication of protest and even if she did, he doubted that she would have any energy to get up and leave now. "No. I told him I'd get you." Amelia nods to that, and in the course of the time they've been here, he can see her shaking slightly and it's not from the cold.

"It's my decision, Dad." Amelia growls softly just as he's about to speak. Arthur narrows his eyes, but tries to keep any other prejudices aside for now.

"I know you're upset, but putting him through that emotional strain is only going to make things worse."

Amelia's brow furrows, and she tries to think how long she's gone without actually feeling his presence somewhere in her head, even it was barely anything. _Years_. _Probably close to never. _"I can't deal with him right now." She takes another tar filled breath, letting it out in the early morning sky before angrily butting out the last remains on a piece of driftwood. The excuse sounds weak even to her.

He watches her movements with calm, but calculated eyes and observations tinged with vibrant green and apologies. He knows that she can't hate her brother, no matter how hard she tries and the same could be said for any of them interacting within the space of their family.

"Why do I always manage to fuck things up?" The words spilling from her lips are not a question. They seem to choke the both of them in a vice like grip before he thinks _to hell with space_ and before she can even notices that her head hurts from the time she spent _not crying _her father's arms are pulling her in and she's burying her face into his chest.

Arthur expects the struggle and has to admire how strong the nation is, despite being centuries younger. He lets her pound out her frustrations against his chest with an enraged half scream half pathetic whimper _well why didn't she just rip his heart out_ over and over until he grasps her wrists, exposing the hidden lines underneath her sweater. He's one of the few allowed to see them, let alone actually touch and that was only with permission.

There were always exceptions- _such as now._

A part of her will always hate, always loathe some aspect of her being even when it wasn't her fault, but at the same time, it was so damn difficult accepting comfort of any kind. She's leaning her head against his chest, breathing in the scent of tea and rain and old books and _dear god she loved her father so much sometimes it hurt _as his fingers trace the raised flesh on her wrists. That action is enough to bring her back into some semblance of the present, before her memories pull her back to nights of not being able to sleep and bad dreams and the fear of bluff upon bluff upon bluff upon-

_a week since the hospital and he hasn't let her sleep without him the entire time. Her own room was too sad, he says, smiling that wonderful smile of his and lays down beside her in the cool dark of his bedroom as she leans her head against the red of his sweatshirt she got him god know how many decades ago and he's pointing out the dim outline of constellations they see from the skylight above _

_Ursa Major._

_Cassiopeia._

_Matthew takes her hand, tracing out the patterns._

_Draco. _

_Orion. _

_First on her palm, then in the sky._

_Aquila. _

_Scorpius. _

_Somewhere in the background, she can hear the faint sound of the piano music he falls asleep to each night. Claire de Lune. Piano Concerto No. 1 In D Major, Op. 17, Piano Sonata No. 8 In C Minor. If she moves the sound forward, she can hear his heartbeat muffled through the warmth of his sweatshirt. _

_Gemini. _

_His fingers accidentally brush against the raised skin and flinches, sitting up to apologize for being so careless- __**why was she so upset**__- until he doesn't let go of her hand practically breathing the kiss into the skin of her wrists before tracing the constellations along the scars. _

_She falls asleep to him telling her about Ursa running across the sky for eternity. _

Arthur feels her ride out the emotional shockwave, slumping against him in a wave of sudden exhaustion, before she blinks, trying to stand and _dear god why was she so tired _before he leans down and pockets the packet of cigarettes and her phone in his jeans before shrugging off his jacket and forcing her into it. Amelia only hums- _she remembers how her fathers smell of history and sorrow together but with him it was only stardust and dreams_- and barely even notices his arms reaching underneath her body and hoisting her to his chest before heading back to the car.

* * *

><p><strong>It's 1:05 in the morning and I'm annoyed for my brain to come up with some gut wrenching angst such as this. Dear God, the North American siblings kill me every time. I'll go into a backstory for this one in later chapters because I like where this is going. Yes, I put them into my home state, and no, I am not ashamed of it. HAVE YOU SEEN OUR SKY ON A RAINY DAY. BEAUTIFUL. <strong>

**Historical Note: The sleepless night concept is referencing the Cold War. Given the flurry of events America had gone through, World War II, Great Depression, now the Cold War it would have been a lot to handle. Matthew provides comfort. :) **

**Songs that Inspired this Fic:**

**_Papa M'aime Pas_ by Melissa Mars **

**_Sylvia, Ou La Nymphe de Diane_ by Leo Delbris **

**_Giuseppe Tornatore Suite: IV. Malena _****by Ennio Morricone**


	2. Chapter 2

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

The shards from the plate hadn't been picked up.

If he looks close enough he can almost see the scene play out again before him as the plate shatters against the wall so close to her brother's head while he's screaming at his sister as she stomps out of the room and up the stairs.

Francis puts it to the back of his mind and makes a mental note to clean up the mess later as he steals a glance at his incredibly volatile son who is pacing back and forth across the living room floor. Matthew is muttering to himself in a combination of French and English, habit picked up from his bilingual childhood and something both he and his sister did when they were upset.

"It was cruel, but I was angry and-"The nation cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in growing agitation. Francis crosses his arms, leaning against the table before his son turns to him again, violet eyes desperate. "It wasn't my fault." He nearly spits.

Francis raises an eyebrow. "You had a right to be angry, but not to be cruel."

The report does little to make the boy feel any better and seconds pass before he notices the minute signs of something other than his son's guilt and anger. He's moving from place to place as if looking for something, left eye giving a small twitch every now and then before he rubs it slightly.

"She's blocked you out." His father notes.

Matthew bites the web of skin between his thumb and index finger before giving a shaky nod. It wasn't something either of them did, an unspoken rule between him and his sister that the link they shared shouldn't be blocked under any circumstances.

_Guess she decided to fuck with the rules then. _

"Give it time. Arthur's looking fo-"

The sharp impact of fist against the wall is something new and Francis knows it would take a lot for the boy's bones to actually break underneath the impact, but he steps in to prevent Matthew from testing the quickness of the fact.

The elder nation grasps the boy's hands behind his back in a death grip_. Mon Dieu, the boy is strong._ Francis thinks for a fleeting moments and winces at the fact he knows how to deal with full blown anxiety attacks such as these. Matthew was now thinking on an instinctual level, and it would take time before he would snap out of it.

"Calm down. Vous allez vous blesser si vous ne faites pas attention. »

_-muttering the words into her ear as she jolts awake from another nightmare, holding her wrists in his hands with a death grip and it takes a moment for Amelia to comprehend his words but not without the disgust she feels and it's infecting him and bleeding through their link despite her efforts to block him out dear god how could he even look at her she was so weak and pathetic and ugly_

_"__Stop it." He grabs her shoulder with one hand and holds both wrists down with the other. Amelia can't help but want to pull away because she needed him to be cold and pure like his land in winter covered in nothing but white instead of infected and faking like her. Matthew has to fight the anger building in his chest at her thoughts and instead focuses on speaking-no he has to think this- to her_

**_Look at me._**

_She shakes her head, and he reaches over to the side and turns on the lamp, elongating their shadows across the room causing the both of them to flinch at dim exposure. He releases his grip on her shoulder before coaxing her chin up with his hand. _

_Bloodshot. _

**_I'm sorry. _**_She thinks to him and he says nothing to the unneeded apology gathering her in the circle of his arms. __**Can't remember sometimes. Everything gets so fuzzy after a while that I feel so blank.**_

**_Don't think about it. _**_He croons, the words moving over the both of them a piano melody while his fingers comb through her hair. __**I'm always here, I promise. Ok? **_

_Matthew feels her nod against his shoulder, and he kisses her head as she now sinks into his dreams of snow drifts and starlight. _

"She's saved you before, hasn't she?"

Matthew blinks at his father's words, and he doesn't understand how they ended up on the couch with his head against the elder nation's chest. His heartbeat loud and for a moment, he wonders if Francis can hear it. The representation of Canada only gives a shaky nod, and for a moment he somehow hates himself for making her into the strong one on occasion, having to bear his pain while he broke underneath the sound of his mistakes and her-

-_hand is in his hair, fingers carding through the locks as he stifles a sob over his uncertainties against her neck in a single moment of weakness. Amelia positively growls at the feeling coming from him, wrapping her arm tighter around his too tall frame before slowly rocking him back and forth._

**_You aren't. _**_She can sense him beginning to protest before silencing him. __**I swear to God if you say that one more time-**_

**_It's different for you. You haven't lost-_**

**_Post Bladensburg? _**_Amelia knows it was a low point to make, but it had to be said. Matthew scoffs, sitting upright and wiping his eyes. She leans forward before any misconception can be made and kisses his cheek. __**You know I've forgiven you, I forgave you even then, but the loss was still…poignant to say the least. **__The scar on the back of her neck stings for a moment, before he moves back her hair to brush his fingertips against it. _

_"__I didn't sleep for a week after." He admits, and there's an odd lightness that comes to his shoulders at the statement. Amelia only smiles, moving off of his bed and to the doorway. _

_"__I know." _

Francis had to chuckle slightly at Matthew' soft breathing, albeit somewhat shaky from the emotional turmoil the whole family has gone through, before moving his body from underneath his son and getting up. He moves into the kitchen, taking his cellphone out of his pocket and pressing three. It only take two rings for Arthur to pick up.

"Did you find her?"

_"__Still looking." _Arthur has to smile at the hidden panic in his husband's voice. _"She could have at least taken a jacket with her or something. How is he?"_

"Sleeping, well in this case more like passed out. He put himself into a panic because she blocked him out." Francis grumbles, stealing a glance at his son's figure curled up on the couch.

_"__You didn't knock him out did you?" _

"Cher, you know that I would never resort to such measures with our children." Francis feigns hurt, twirling his long blond hair around one finger.

_"__Hasn't stopped you before, frog."_ Arthur snaps. _"Look, I'll call you when I get news." _

The call cuts off with a few beeps and the Frenchman sighs, moving over to the back end of the dining room table and leaning down to pick up the large shards of broken glass from the floor. He exhales the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and convinces himself of the obvious right and happiness and _fucking unity _surrounding his family at this moment.

_Dear God, he was terrible at lying._

* * *

><p><strong>*hides behind fanfiction whilst angry mobs try to figure out what the hell is going on* <strong>

**I know, I'm doing the thing again of being really vague, but I feel like this format needs to happen in order for events to work in my head. I honestly think that there's no other thing that give families a headache like siblings mad at each other. France and England are lucky the two of them didn't start shooting each other at the dinner table. I will get into the background of what exactly went on between the North American Twins, but right now.. here you go. **

**Historical Note: "Post ****Bladensburg" is a reference to the battle directly before the Burning of the White House on August 24, 1814. **

**READ AND REVIEW. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS **

He doesn't remember much when he tries to look back, before the fuddled memories of their fathers, and sometime after their conception from the wind and sky itself. He only sees, hears, _tastes_ warmth in darkness, enclosed in that space.

And they _move_ in the darkness, before being spilled out into the world like a glass being knocked off of a table and shattering onto the floor.

The first concrete memory is eyes that aren't quite like his staring back at him and then joining his gaze upwards at an endless expanse of skies littered with stars.

* * *

><p>"Do you have a problem with this?"<p>

Her first meeting was something to behold, or at least, something to continually watch. Canada leans against the trunk of a tree, arms folded across the red of his sweatshirt as his eyes dart back and forth between the two females.

Amelia makes no indication that she is aware of her brother, but he can see her finger's tense from where they rest at her sides. Nicole only smirks, red lips curling like a cat and it takes all of his sister's energy not slap the gesture right off her face. She is beautiful, that was a given fact, with a wide face and pale skin and bright eyes and dark brown hair that tumbled down her back like a river. Nicole smiles back at Canada, who only gives a slight head nod, eyes still trained on his sister's form.

_Disgusting._

Nicole moves back over to Canada, leaning her head against his shoulder and he can practically taste the spite driven towards his sister, but says nothing of it. The look in Amelia's eyes is enough to kill them both there before it is shoved down in a forced display calm- the action took less than a second. She swallows down the snarl that was going to rip forth.

Amelia doesn't respond to the girl at first, her eyes finally locking with her twin's and Matthew wants to flinch at the words in her eyes.

_You didn't. _

The nation turns back to the girl, smile sickly sweet. "Of course not."

* * *

><p>The car is pulled over to the side of the road when her silence becomes too much for him to bear. The rain outside is the only sound between the two of them for several minutes. He watches the shadow outline of raindrops pelting the vehicle move around the car from where it was bathed in the light of a street lamp.<p>

"You said you wouldn't be cruel."

"You didn't say anything about being cynical." Amelia's words are stoic.

Matthew slams his hand against the steering wheel and she only shrugs, starting out the window into the darkness of the evening.

"She's going to destroy you." She sounded positively bored, as if the statement were a matter of fact and not opinion.

"Will you _please_ _stop_ pretending you know what's going to happen because you don't Ames!" The nation hissed, violet eyes blazing. "She's more than-"

The slap across the face is expected and he can practically feel the unspoken _don't you dare think she knows more than I do _and Amelia doesn't even cry out when he grasps her wrist, teeth sinking into the pale flesh with malice and _don't you dare think I would ever leave like that._

America rips her hand away, watching in a mix of frustration and bemusement at the small crimson dots that line up on her pale flesh. Matthew blinks and turns back to his seat, fingering with the keys in the ignition.

She wipes away her blood from the corner of his mouth.

* * *

><p>France sits on the edge of his bed late in the evening and he can't even be bothered to look up from his rumpled sheets. The nation says nothing for a long moment before Matthew shifts slightly from where he lay.<p>

"She loves you, you know that right?"

Matthew only gives a weary sigh, and he feels his father press a soft kiss into his hair before stepping out. Now lying in the dark, he can concentrate on fixing the hole that is growing in his chest. The words_ I told you so_ would not be hers to say, he would make sure of that. But even so, he knew of her concern like it was his own.

_Oh yes, too much at times._

* * *

><p>-dark of his bedroom as she leans her head against the red of his sweatshirt she got him god know how many decades ago and he's pointing out the dim outline of constellations they see from the skylight above-<p>

* * *

><p>They don't speak of the moment again until one summer morning as she wanders into the kitchen, bare footed and bleary eyed, humming a good morning to Arthur and Francis who are sitting at the table.<p>

Matthew is busy at the stove and he can feel her eyes on his back before he takes the eggs off the heat of the stove and sets it onto the counter. The drone of her parents goes to the back of her mind as she waits for her coffee to finish, leaning against the countertop. The movement behind her is accidental, but what certainly is _not_ was his leaning against her back as he reached up to grab two plates from the cupboard above, which happened to be at the exact same time she was lifting herself upright.

She will pretend it was her imagination the kiss he presses into her hair.

"Did you hit your wrist on something?" Arthur asks, stirring his tea as they all sit down at the table. She is concentrating on how the sunlight from outside comes into the glass beside her, breaking apart into tiny fragmented pieces trapped inside the crystal.

Amelia shifts in her seat, taking a bite of the eggs and chewing slowly. Matthew watches the action silently from where he sits across from her, fingers drumming against the glass of his orange juice as he drank.

Amelia smiles. "Something like that."

* * *

><p>When everything falls apart-<em> and by this time they both knew that she had been right all along<em>- she doesn't even knock entering his room. Amelia cocks her head, staring at his back from where he sat on the edge of the bed, a headache pounding in the base of his skull.

He wants to scream when she presses her forehead against his back.

Moments later, they are staring up at the skylight of his room and she turns her head to hope to catch his gaze. Blood and ashes slip away-_they know this better than anyone_, but she can still feel the memory of his hands entwined with hers back when there was nothing but him and the sky can feel also the memory of her own lifeblood bursting from her wrists and she sinks down into a poppy stained oblivion but it was okay because the leader was only temporary as was bullet wounds and discontentment and razor blades and lets never forget her life and everything else but it was _really_ okay because Matthew was permanent and there and something to hold onto-

_and hers._

He remembers the feeling of betrayal on both their parts, but more importantly, he remembers the _punishment_ for no one is allowed to leave their domain without sacrifice. Matthew turns, curling into her without a sound and he knows that this really isn't either of their faults. The possessive need was never a fault, but a given on both of their parts. Amelia exhales, the sound somewhat shaky and she makes a move to leave, before his arms wrap around her waist, flipping her body over onto his and tangling their legs together because _God Himself be damned if he was going have someone else leave him now._

_"Don't you love her?" _The question isn't a question.

Matthew breaths and she can feel the expansion of his lungs underneath her cheek.

_"More than I love you?" _

* * *

><p><strong>Brownie points to whoever understand that parallels I am making with the three of them. Hint: Myths. :) <strong>

**Songs that inspired Part III:**

**_I Don't Love You_ by My Chemical Romance **

**_Duet_ by Philip Glass **

**Also, another note, this is backstory to backstory that I haven't written yet. This will probably be in five parts. Cause I'm cool like that. PM me to give suggestions on what you want to happen next! **

**READ AND REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS**

The environment surrounding the two siblings was…_tense_ to say the very least.

France could feel the disunity the minute he sat down at the dinner table, quietly sending his husband the message of _careful_ as England sat down with his eyes. Ten minutes later and the conversation was only stretched between the two of them, and even then it came to large halts in topic as they glanced worriedly at the two persons sitting at the other end of the table.

_They're staring. _Canada thinks to his sister, cutting off her ramblings that are growing more and more intense by the second. He should have never brought Quebec up.

_Let them. Do I look like I give a shit? _America scoffs. Matthew's eyes narrow at the remark, painfully stabbing the piece of uneaten chicken with his fork and more dragged than cut his knife into it. England sets his glass down slowly before addressing the two siblings, clearing his throat slightly before speaking.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure we can talk this out like rational, _sensible_ adults-"

"Oh, nothing's wrong, Dad." Amelia smiles, gaze still trained on her brother, fingering her fork with steady fingers as she lightly pressed the prongs into the tablecloth. "Some of us are just better communicating than others."

"Oh, I think you might need to be a bit more specific in terms of your questioning." Matthew spits the words out, grey eyes dark with anger. Amelia laughs, the sound dry and humorless and France can see her grip tighten considerably on the fork before she speaks.

"So did she fuck you or was it the other way around?"

The sudden snap made their parents jump and they look over to see the stainless steel fork now broken in their son's hand before he slams the object down onto his plate with a clatter, fingers and hands suddenly moving at a million miles per hour. England fights back a curse at the loss of communication on both their parts. Neither he nor Francis knew ASL, and the little they did wouldn't help in this case.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU CAN NEVER LET THINGS BE AS THEY MAY, CAN YOU. NO, YOU HAVE TO MEDDLE AND MEDDLE AND PRY YOUR STUPID NOSE INTO PLACES THAT ARE ABOSLUETELY NONE OF YOUR CONCERN.

Amelia smashes her glass down against the table before signing furiously back. YOU THINK IT'S MY FAULT THAT YOU COULDN'T KEEP YOURSELF IN CHECK?! I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU.

YOU DID NOTHING OF THE SORT. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT I CAN TAKE CARE OF THINGS LIKE THIS BY MYSELF, BUT NO, YOU HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING. SHE IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU.

IT IS NOT MY FAULT SHE LEFT ONE TIME-

TWICE, AMES. THE SECOND PLEA FOR A REFERENDUM HAPPENED JUST THREE MONTHS AGO, OR DID YOU FORGET THAT TOO?

"AT LEAST I DON'T BLUR THE LINES BETWEEN BUSINESS AND PLEASURE-"

"AT LEAST I ACTUALLY HAVE A CHOICE WHEN A PART OF MY PEOPLE DECIDES TO LEAVE." The words did not mean to leave his hands and move to his mouth in order to spill out into the rest of the world.

_"__You bastard." _Amelia's voice is quiet and full to the brim with growing anger before she stands up abruptly, palms splayed out onto the tablecloth, eyes focused onto her brother. "Take it back right now. I'm giving you one chance. _Take. It. Back._"

Matthew stands, ignoring the look of confusion on both his parent's faces. Violet eyes are cold and full of more hate and anger the two older nations had ever seen projected onto his twin. He leans forward, snarling the words into his sister's face. _"Pourquoi est-ce que je devrais nier la vérité ?"_

The plate is shattered against the wall, barely missing his head, but by then the both of them are too full of anger and rage to notice their parents yelling at the both of them. Amelia is over the table in less than a second and wants to laugh at the impact her knuckles gave against his jaw before he whirls and slams her against the wall.

_"__Ramenez-la! Ramenez-la!" _

"_You never-"_

"_Malpropre, égoïste-"_

_"__You little bitch-"_

_"__You disgusting, selfish son of a whore!" _

They are both screaming at each other in a garbled mix of French and English, voices too loud in the spacious house. The back of Amelia's head slams against the barrier and she manages to claw her nails across the boy's cheek before her neck cracks at the impact of his hand slapping her in the face. Something akin to an snarl burst forth at the action before she kicks him in the knees, making him stumble back and is about to do it again, before arms firmly grasp around her waist. Fingers press against the side of her neck before a voice, strangely calm practically growls the words into her ear.

"I will knock you out if you move again. Do you understand me?"

_Clear. Concise. Rational. _

Obviously England.

But even with both of their parents holding them back from killing one another, it didn't stop the continuous spewing of insults to the other from across the way.

"You bast-"

"What the hell did you just say to-"

_"__Tais-toi tout de suite ! "_

The Frenchman rarely got this angry, let alone in a state of rage such as this, but that silenced the both of them quickly enough and long enough for everyone to catch their breath. France sends a silent message to his husband and the two of them release their children, standing in between the two of them.

Both younger nations open their mouths to speak, before England raises up a hand for silence. "No, to be blunt I don't give a _flying fuck_ of either of your reasons. I had hopped we raised you better than to act like animals, but apparently I was wrong."

France frowns at the glares both siblings gave to one another before stepping in, words ice cold. "I can speak for the both of us when I say this. If we _ever_ see the two of you even _think_ about doing something like this to each other ever again, you will have a lot more to worry about that just being angry with each other. _Do I make myself clear?_"

There is a minute nod from the two of them.

France exhales through his nose slowly, trying quell the frustration growing in his chest. "Go to bed. We'll talk this over in the morning."

* * *

><p>The two nations say nothing for long while even after their children had slunk upstairs. France rubs his eyes in tiredness and frustration as England's knee bounces up and down in the same respect.<p>

"How could he say something like that? Out of all the things that he could have said-"England cuts off, running a hand through his hair in growing agitation.

"I don't know why, but they are both to blame for this. This wasn't an act of sibling squabble, this was deeper. Something minute. The girl is gone, we know that, but they are both to blame for her absence. We know that, but just not _how_."

England sighs, getting off the couch and switching off the kitchen and dining room lights before speaking. "We're not going to until tomorrow at the very least. Bed?"

France nods. "Bed."

The last light in the living room shuts off.

* * *

><p>2:00 A.M. comes once more and they find themselves checking over the both of them purely out of parental habit and concern. England frowns at the cold coming from his daughter's bedroom from underneath the door and opens it slowly, only to find one slightly messy bed, and dimly lit room, and the window left open with America no where to be seen.<p>

_Well then. _

* * *

><p><strong>Well, this took forever to post and to actually get an idea for this, but I finally did it! Don't worry, this isn't the end of the story! I shall be writing more...as well as Chapter 6 Part II, which I shall force the Inner Circle (my group of friends, we are not a cult) to help me with it! Yay! <strong>

**Poor Matthew and Amelia! Sorry if the both of them are super OOC in this, but it fits the purpose. **

**READ AND REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Hooray for small segments of writing! This literally just came to me now and I think this'll help make the story a bit more linear. Think of the first four chapters as a sort of prologue to past grievances between America and Canada. Now we're in the actual present, where the real conflict is beginning. **

**Many thanks to those who have favorited this story:**

**Illiyasfiel **

**Miss Flutter Pie**

**Thrill-Pair-All-The-Way**

**Watanabe Maya**

**And to those who have put this on their alert list:**

**Thrill-Pair-All-The-Way**

**Watanabe Maya **

**chocolate-dbz**

**_You guys are awesome!_**

* * *

><p><em>October 1995<em>

_He wishes the cold could just bleed into him, infect him like a virus and cloud his mind with something to distract him from the words spilling out of her mouth. Canada blinks, eyes dry from the late fall air and watches as his sister shifts from right to left, boots crushing dead leaves softly. The sounds of the party are just a hum in the back of their minds. _

_The nation clears his throat. "When?"_

_America is studying the dent her feet make into the cold earth. "Tonight, preferably." Agitation moves through the air and her head jerks up, eyes a mix of sorrow and anger. There is a pause and she moves to make her way past him before his hand jerks out and curls around her forearm in a death grip. The physical contact is enough to make her flinch; before she knows it he has her back against the trunk of a tree. Matthew does not pin her, but the grip on her arm is enough to make her stand still. _

_The desperation in his eyes makes her want to cry. _

_"__Do you want me to-"the words are hissed before she cuts him off. _

_"__I would never ask you that, Matthew! You know what you need to do, even if you haven't figured it out yet. And you can't do that with me here. Besides," a dry chuckle emerges from her lips, dying in the cold night air, "two's lovely, but three's quite a crowd, don't you think?" _

_The wind blows softly, tousling both their hair and for a moment she wants nothing more than to grab his messy blond locks and slam his face into the ground. Matthew's eyes are a mix of anger and disbelief, before they harden. _

_"__So this is it then? You doing what you do best. Be there and then just like that," he snaps his fingers, "gone with the wind." _

_Amelia's eyes narrow before the words come out, spat in his face. "I'm sure she'd love you. What with your…stability that I always seem to lack."_

_"__And there you go again. You can never leave anything alone-"_

_"__That's why we're here, Matthew! To make sure I never have to meddle and meddle and meddle in your stupid pathetic life ever again." _

_"__Oh please, you never wanted that. Always wanted something to hate and hate, even if it was me because you couldn't handle that something was taken away from you! Because you can never be with me for something that I want!"_

_"__I have been with you since before we were born! I loved you from the very start and now you and that piece of shit feel the need to take that bond and throw it to the wolves!" _

_He doesn't even make a move, stunned before he leans forward, violet eyes darker than she had ever seen them. "Then consider it consumed."_

_Amelia's eyes close as she can feel the pain overwhelming her system, not remotely physical but the strain on her mind is something to behold. It's in that moment that he wonders if it was worth it, they wonder if this was a mistake, and if she will ever forgive him for this. _

_The emptiness is a horrid sensation. _

_He steps back, filling his lungs with the cold air, but it seems to move through him as though he was hollow. Amelia's eyes snap up to his, and he wants to weep at the pure hatred in her eyes. Even so, they despised themselves for thinking it, the attachment was almost non-exististent. _

_Almost. _

_America leans her head back against the tree, trying to quell the ripping sensation in her chest before she feels his hand reach up to brush away the strawberry blond locks away from her face. The action feels unnatural, almost profane but she only stand still as he leans his forehead against hers. _

**_I love you, but I just don't like you anymore. _**

_The emptiness only seems to grow and expand around her, blocking her from feeling anything close to his emotions, thoughts, dreams. But even so, she chokes back a sob as he presses his lips against her forehead, fingers brushing against her wrist and slipping underneath her sweater sleeve to trace the scars. _

* * *

><p>"Matthew?"<p>

There is no response behind the door.

France opens to barrier slowly, only to see his son curled up on the center of his bed, knees pressed against his chest. The curtains are somewhat drawn, though the rainy weather didn't provide much light even though it was 1:30 in the afternoon.

His steps are quiet and seem to echo in the space when he moves closer to the bed, sitting down carefully so as not to frighten the young man. When his hand rubs along the boy's back, there is something of a shudder that passes through him, before his father has him in the circle of his arms.

The shaking starts then.

The nation buries his face into France's shoulder, and it takes only a few moments before the first whimper breaks forth from the back of his throat. Soon, the boy is a mass of sobs and panic, fingers digging into the fabric of his father's sweater. France mummers comforts into the boy's ear, rocking him back and forth as the minutes dragged on and his son is able to put himself into some semblance of calm in order to actually function.

"Do you know where she is, _mon petit_?" France asks gently.

The question only makes Matthew cry harder.

* * *

><p><strong>*sings* Bye, Bye Miss American Pie... *dodges bullets* Sorry, spur of the moment. Yes, everyone, America is gone, and for those who weren't quite clear on the happenings of this chapter:<strong>

**Matthew basically severed their bond. now, being a twin myself, my brother and I don't have this sort of physic kind of thing (as far as we know) but the "bond" has been their since birth. It's not so crazy when you think of you being with someone who literally has been there since your actual conception. The "born together, die together" motto can sometimes come into play. This is very difficult for me to write as I am pretty much like Amelia and my brother Matthew, except we've never had a girl come between us... we've never really had anything drastic come between us. **

**Except food. Probably food. :)**

**All jokes aside, it is very difficult to write sibling angst, fluff hurt/comfort, or anything like that without it coming off as weak, undeveloped, or worse.. *shudder* _incest_. Or twincest if we are being specific. That is not my intention at all, if anyone is confused. They love each other as siblings and twins, nothing more or less! :) **

**Now all we need to do it figure out how to make them love each other again. They're both kind of being selfish jerks...and protective and angry and jealous and frustrated and sad and- #strugglesofbeingatwin**

**Questions, comments, concerns, or just want to sat hi? PM me or let me know in comments! Also, tell me what you think should happen next! ****READ AND REVIEW! **


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